


Concourse

by bellezza



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (2011)
Genre: POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellezza/pseuds/bellezza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before departure, there is the wait. That's the hardest part: knowing you need to be home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concourse

**Author's Note:**

> Another little ficlet written for tumblr.

This mortal desert is expansive, and bleak, and you hate it. You did not hate it when your feet first touched down; then, it was only a place with no name. In a handsbreadth of hours since your cuts have stung with desert dust and you have seen your dearest friend bleed out into the dirt. This is unlike you, but you know the hatred is only temporary. What matters is home. What matters is getting there.

But when Thor calls, all you hear is his voice carrying through the vast empty sky. Not even an echo in this flat place, and no answer in return. You might know fear at that if you did not know it already, had not known it from the moment the sky went dark and treachery descended. The fear is not for yourself but for everything and everyone you've sworn to protect. Some call you fearless; more fools they. You have never been able to abide fear. It cannot be fought or mastered, despite what others say; fear, you know well, can only be buried deep so that it does not master you.

If you could will the world to cast its shape to your liking, you would. If you had such power to reach through the heavens and make it all right, you would. You can only wait, and hope. Waiting has never been one of your talents. Hope is for little girls who don't understand the full strength they bear.

Moments pass; they feel like hours. Clouds pull tight and furl, darkening to a point. You know those clouds. You know the light that flickers through them before it does. It converges at its nexus, a single heavens-bright pinprick that discharges like lightning. The roar of home fills your ears with its chorus, and despite it all, despite the fear, the anger, the adrenaline high of combat and the bone-deep weariness of it too, you smile.

This battle is not over, but the path through it is clear.


End file.
